


glimpse of color;

by JustARandomFan



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: ColorsAU, F/M, Johnny-centric, Light Angst, Mentions of drugs, Mentions of religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23278912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustARandomFan/pseuds/JustARandomFan
Summary: For Youngho, seeing the Colors was his Heaven—the only taste of euphoria he's come to know.Meeting Eunji wasn't supposed to change anything; she was grey, just like everything and everyone else. And yet, there's an unusual feeling of warmth in his chest, an unconscious tug at his lips.An unexpected feeling of happiness.(or, in a world where colors only appear in times of joy and contentment, youngho strives to find happiness)
Relationships: Suh Youngho | Johnny/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	glimpse of color;

_RED_

Light refracted from the glass wall in front of him and for a second, from the corner of his right eye, he saw a blur−a flash of a familiar distortion that corrupted the black-and-white palette that ruled their world. Perhaps it was a trick of sorts, borne from the thinking he had been doing for the past few days because there was no event−no extreme happiness nor extreme sadness−that presupposed him catching a glimpse of _that_.

“ _Red_?” he whispered.

He looked down at his hands ( _were they shaking?_ ) to the flimsy black card on the grey wooden table next to a coffee mug. The indistinct chatter of café-goers was supposed to drown out his thoughts, but it seemed they were too mild of distractions.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” A waiter asked leaning over his shoulder. “Are you alright, sir?”

“Yeah. I, uh,” he cleared his throat as a white air-conditioning unit caught his eye. “Think your A/C’s getting too cold. Can you turn it up a bit?”

“Sure, sir. I’ll get back to you.”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Right. Thanks, man.”

He massaged the bridge of his nose, trying to stay calm. The lamp post across the street was now thoroughly grey, without a smudge of any discoloration, faithful to the rules of their curse. Maybe it had only been a reminder of his deeds—a ghost of his past that will continue to haunt him with flashes of _Color_ until he perishes.

The scalding coffee burned his tongue as he gulped down half the cup. The sunlight blinded him as it set its white gaze down the translucent glass of the café, forcing him to squint while looking at the opposite side of the road, where black-and-white buildings sat on a cold, grey pavement.

_GREEN_

His mother called him John, after a disciple in the scriptures she used to read to him on nights his questions would get too close for comfort, but he was Youngho to everyone else.

" _It was a sign, John,”_ she would explain, patting the book between her palms. _“People were getting too curious and evil. So, if we don’t act good, who knows? Maybe tomorrow you wouldn’t be able to taste breakfast.”_

 _“But, umma_ − _”_

Then, she would put a finger to his lips. _“The Colors are sacred, John. They only appear to you when the Lord wills them to.”_

His mother was a well-meaning woman−one with a particular religious bias and calloused hands from her job in a factory where she met his father. Youngho used to sit for hours on end at the foot of their stained, white sofa listening to the tales of their meeting.

His father was a great man−one who could build _anything_ : from faucets to an actual working bike. The fondest memory he has with him was when he crashed on a tree after learning to ride without training wheels for the first time.

 _“Youngho!”_ His father exclaimed, running along the black train tracks to the tree he face-planted into. _“I told you to watch where you’re going!”_

 _“Appa!”_ Youngho couldn’t even _feel_ the pain.

_“Don’t ‘appa’ me. Your mother is going to murder me when she sees you!”_

_“I saw it!”_ His meaty fingers pointed at the leaves above him. _“Color! On all of them!”_

 _“Alright, alright, kid.”_ His father took out a handkerchief and wiped a trail of dark liquid flowing from his nose. _“But we have to go back to stitch you up.”_

 _“Did you see it, appa? It was everywhere!”_ Youngho threw his hands up in the air while walking back to their home. _“Six_ − _se_ − _sevin? Sevin seconds! I counted!”_

 _"Seven,”_ his father corrected. _“You must’ve been very happy.”_

_"But didn’t you see it?”_

_"The Colors on the leaves? No. Those appeared especially for you because you learned to ride the bike today and because you enjoyed doing it!”_

_"But I enjoy everything,”_ Youngho whined. _“Even washing dishes when umma tells me to. Why can’t I see colors more often?”_

His father readjusted the broken bike perched across his back. _“I don’t see it much either, kid. No one really knows for sure.”_

_“But, when do you see it?”_

A train sounded from about a mile away.

_"I saw it when I proposed to your umma, when I learned she was pregnant, and when you were born. I saw the Color of the sky.”_

_"The sky!”_ Youngho exclaimed. _“What does it look like?”_

His father opened his lips as if he was about to say something, then, decided against it. _“A train is coming. I’ll tell you more about it at home.”_

They never talked about it again after that.

_WHITE_

“Sir, I’ve adjusted the temperature.”

Youngho craned his head both sides to stretch his muscles. “Thanks. I hope it doesn’t bother the rest of your customers.”

The waiter laughed. “Nah. Most of our patrons come to get coffee then leave to do their thing.”

The sun was starting to set as the café-goers left one after the other, new faces−shades of different greys−pour into the antiqued chairs, small talk flourished within the hour of three, yet Youngho was still alone.

“Waiting for someone?” The waiter inquired as he reached for Youngho’s long untouched cup.

He smiled as he played with the folded corners of the flimsy black card. “Yeah.”

The waiter left carrying Youngho’s half-full mug. His fingers still tracing marks across the small black paper filled with words society has long since forgotten. _The Colors_ , it said, embossed under squares crammed with seemingly varying greys. There had been a time when the words surrounding the boxes made sense. Back when the drugs were still flowing in his veins, he could _see_.

_BLACK_

Youngho met Eunji on the 14th of January as a fugitive. She was a convenience store cashier working long hours when he had broken in and pointed his gun at her.

“Hide me or I’ll kill you.” He was menacing enough to send a couple of goons running.

But Eunji didn’t flinch. “Door to the back room is through the right of that hallway.”

He ran past her as police sirens blared outside the store.

They met again a week after that.

“Your backroom still open?”

She wasn’t as amenable that time. “Only if you buy the last of these candies.”

The convenience store’s backroom became his sanctuary since. Youngho told himself it was for _his_ safety but the drugs were still in effect and he could _see_ the colors of her eyes and they were beautiful.

“Want one?” He asked her one day. Dangling a packet of _Color_ Enhancing Drugs−the kind that sent the black-market men squealing with happiness as their sights danced with varying _Colors_ −in front of her eyes.

“What does it do?”

“Makes you happy enough to see some of the _Colors_.”

Eunji laughed, crossing her legs as she sat on a large cooler in front of him. “ _Colors_ are for kids.”

“Hey. _Colors_ make this shitty world interesting.”

“ _Colors_ also run those horrible, corrupt syndicates.”

He huffed. “Please. You’re hanging out with _me_ right now, babe.”

“Yeah, but I like you.” She replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His heartbeat picked up a couple of paces as he cleared his throat, “C’mon. Take one.”

“Nope. Don’t think I’ll like it.”

Youngho rolled his eyes. “You don’t enjoy shit, Eun-ah. Can’t you just agree with me on this?”

“You can _see_ me, then?” She asked. “What do I look like? Do I look different?”

He took out the black card hidden in his pocket and matched the color of her eyes. _Brown._

A pause, a smile, then: “You look beautiful.”

Eunji had been different. She was grey amidst the drug-induced sea of _Colors_ and yet she made him happy. Not happy enough to see the _Colors_ , but happy enough to smile a smile that had once frequented his face before his mother died, trapped inside the factory fire and before his father broke the bones of his fingers searching the rubble only to find nothing but piles and piles of ash underneath.

His father’s once magnificent hands no longer made any money and the even house along the train tracks was getting too expensive to pay off. When he died soon after (he wasn’t used to lazing around the house and there was nothing to look forward to anymore), Youngho learned to survive.

_BLUE_

The glass door of the café opened for the umpteenth time that afternoon but Youngho’s eyes couldn’t leave the figure walking towards him.

“SooJi asked for me to take her shift.”

“Why’d you take it? SooJi’s a bitch.”

Eunji’s eyes smiled with her lips. “Quiet! You can’t go around saying things like that.”

“I saw a _Color_ again today,” He whispered to her. “ _Red._ But only for a second or two.”

“Have you seen that before?”

“Only during… the old times.”

She nodded. “Don’t think much of it.”

Really, she could’ve been a drug all on her own because he couldn’t help but nod along with her. “I’ve packed up at my apartment. Should we swing by your place to get your things?”

“Why not? I’ve gotten the boxes ready since last week. It’s your ass that took so long.”

He reached for her hand beside his own, his heart was swarming with delight. “I’m glad we’re finally doing this.”

She faced him and held his hand tighter.

Then, a change from the corner of his eye. A flash of a familiar distortion that corrupted the black-and-white palette that ruled their world. Perhaps it was a trick of sorts. But this time around, there had been an event that presupposed him catching a glimpse of _that_.

“Eun-ah.”

“Hmm?” She smiled up at him.

“The sky.” He noted. “It’s beautiful.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a couple of years ago for a project haha! I just revamped and changed the characters and dialogue a bit. I hope you guys liked it!


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